Across the infinite tapestry of the multiverse, every Angel paused mid-task. Wine glasses froze halfway to lips; celestial scrolls lay forgotten; intricate cosmic calibrations halted abruptly. Whis's message resonated simultaneously within their eternal consciousness – a single pulse of absolute authority: **Convene.** It bypassed language, thrumming directly into their divine cores. The Grand Priest's summons followed instantly – a harmonic chime echoing through the Void, summoning every God of Destruction, every Supreme Kai, every attendant deity. The Omni King himself paused mid-skip atop a dissolving comet, sensing the abrupt stillness. Below, Gods vanished from their thrones in flashes of destructive violet and life-giving gold, summoned toward the heart of existence.
The Infinite Void Chamber materialized around them – a place outside time, outside dimensions. Twelve Gods of Destruction stood rigidly at attention, their usual arrogance replaced by palpable unease. Opposite them, twelve Supreme Kais trembled, clutching their scepters. Beside each Destroyer stood their Angel, expressions serene masks over unfathomable depths. At the center, hovering above a platform of solidified cosmic dust, sat Grand Zeno. His twin forms fidgeted, wide eyes darting excitedly. The Grand Priest stood beside them, hands folded, a comet's tail of pure light trailing from his shoulders. Silence reigned, thick enough to choke immortal lungs. Then Zeno squealed, bouncing. **"Where's Beerus?"**
A ripple of violet light coalesced beside the platform. Beerus materialized, hovering slightly lower than the Omni King. His posture was impeccable, but a fine tremor ran through his clenched fists. Whis floated beside him, serene as ever. Beerus bowed deeply. "Omni King," he rasped, voice stripped of its usual lazy menace. "I bear... disturbing news." Whis lifted his gloved hand. The pristine white fabric dissolved. Revealed was the jagged crimson star-shaped void burned into his celestial palm – a wound that pulsed faintly, radiating untamed Saiyan energy that hissed against the sterile perfection of the Void Chamber. Gasps echoed through the assembled deities. Gods recoiled. Supreme Kais whimpered. Even the Grand Priest's brow furrowed microscopically. Zeno leaned forward, eyes impossibly wide. **"Ooooh!"** he chirped, pointing a tiny finger. **"The monkey's bite!"** The chamber froze. Every divine gaze locked onto the impossible scar – proof that a mortal warrior had marked eternity itself.
Amidst the collective divine panic, a single resonant scoff cut through the silence. Shin, the timid Supreme Kai of Universe 7, nervously clutched his scepter, trembling beside Kibito. His gaze darted towards the phantom projection floating beside him – the spirit-form of Old Kai, summoned alongside him. The ancient sage floated nonchalantly, arms crossed within his worn robes. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his wrinkled face, deepening the lines around his eyes. He shook his head, chuckling softly. "Fools," he muttered under his breath, loud enough for Shin to flinch. "Squirming like startled grubbles over *this*?" He gestured dismissively with his chin towards Whis's scarred palm. "It was *necessary*. To awaken the Beast within the vessel... sacrifices were inevitable." His smirk widened, showing yellowed teeth. "The Saiyan's power always demanded balance. They feared his rage... now they fear his *potential*." He chuckled again, darkly amused by the cosmic panic. Whis's lavender eyes flickered towards him, registering the ancient Kai's unnerving calm.
Old Kai's smirk sharpened. He drifted slightly forward within his spectral projection, ignoring Shin's frantic attempts to shush him. His milky eyes scanned the horrified Gods, the whimpering Kais, the Grand Priest's minute frown. "You sought perfection?" he rasped, his voice unexpectedly loud in the stunned silence. "Order? Control?" He shook his head slowly. "You nurtured warriors expecting tame hounds. But that boy?" He pointed a gnarled finger towards the fading image of Whis's scar. "He's not a hound. He's a force of nature encased in flesh." He leaned back, crossing his arms again. "You locked away the Oozaru rage, tried to channel it into neat little godly sparks. I merely... unlocked the cage." A low, satisfied chuckle escaped him. "Be grateful he *apologized*." Beerus glared daggers at the ancient spirit, but Old Kai met his gaze unflinching. The smirk remained. He'd gambled existence... *and it worked*.
Grand Zeno blinked, tilting his twin heads. **"Is the monkey... bad?"** he asked, a genuine tremor of childish confusion mixing with thrilling curiosity. The Grand Priest stepped forward smoothly, his comet-trail aura brightening momentarily. "Not inherently, Omni King," he stated, his voice resonating with calming authority. He lifted his hand, and Whis's scar dissolved back beneath the glove, vanishing from sight. "But the potential requires... assessment." His gaze swept across the assembled Gods. "This primal Saiyan power transcends known benchmarks. It interacts unpredictably with divine constructs." His gaze lingered pointedly on Beerus. "Universe 7's Destroyer will oversee further... observation." Beerus stiffened, bowing stiffly. Old Kai's chuckle deepened into a raspy laugh. Observation? More like containment. The Beast was loose... and the gods were scrambling. His smirk widened. Let them observe. Let them fear. The Saiyan's destiny was only beginning.
Far beyond the Infinite Void Chamber, nestled within the fractured currents of temporal possibility, Chronoa startled. Tea spilled onto star-chart projections as her ancient eyes widened within the silent sanctum of the Time Nest. A spike of primal Saiyan energy—raw, crimson, terrifyingly potent—had just registered across the temporal tapestry. Not just a fluctuation, but a *rupture*. "What...?" she breathed, leaning closer to the swirling chroniton display. This wasn't Goku Black, nor a temporal anomaly. This signature pulsed with an untamed ferocity she hadn't sensed since... well, ever. Her fingers danced over controls, isolating the timeline: Universe 7, Earth, moments ago. She witnessed the crimson-furred warrior punch Beerus skyward, the Hakai sphere shattering against primal fists, the impossible scar on Whis's palm flaring briefly. A slow, fascinated smile crept across Chronoa's youthful face. This Goku... he wasn't just defying gods; he was rewriting their understanding of power itself. The Supreme Kai of Time leaned back, tapping her chin thoughtfully. *Now this,* she mused, *merits a closer look.*
Within the Time Nest's quiet core, Chronoa gestured sharply. The swirling chronitons coalesced, projecting a shimmering window into Universe 7's present. She witnessed Goku's crimson tail lashing impatiently as he hovered over Bulma's smoking yacht, his apology hanging awkwardly in the air. Beerus's strained declaration echoed faintly through the temporal link: *"Our training concludes for today..."* Chronoa's brow furrowed. The instability wasn't merely in the Saiyan's power; it resonated through spacetime itself. A ripple, subtle yet profound, distorted the edges of the projection. She felt it—a tremor in the causal stream emanating from that crimson aura. This wasn't just a powerful warrior; his very existence was bending local causality, straining the fabric of "what should be." A flicker of concern warred with intense curiosity. Could such power be controlled? Or would it unravel timelines? Chronoa's hand hovered over the chroniton controls. Intervening carried immense risk... but failing to understand this anomaly might carry far greater.
A deep chuckle echoed from the Nest's shadowed periphery, startling Chronoa. "Seems the runt finally stopped holding back." The voice resonated with rough pride and ancient Saiyan intensity. Chronoa spun, tea forgotten. Bathed in the Nest's ethereal light stood Bardock—but not the Bardock frozen in Planet Vegeta's destruction. This was Xeno Bardock: hardened by endless multiversal conflicts against Demon Gods, his battle-scarred armor subtly different, bearing dimensional weave repairs unseen in Universe 7. His gaze, fierce and calculating, locked onto the projection of his crimson-furred son defying Beerus. A slow, predatory smirk spread across his weathered face. "That's more like it," he growled, crossing powerful arms. His weathered gaze tracked Goku's primal form with unnerving focus—not surprise, but grim satisfaction. "Forced 'em to acknowledge the Beast lurking beneath the training gi. Took him long enough." His own tail coiled tightly behind him, sensing the echo across dimensions.
Chronoa stared, momentarily speechless. How had *he* slipped past her temporal wards? Before she could demand answers, Bardock's eyes narrowed. He gestured sharply at the projection. "Look closer, Time Keeper," he commanded, his voice rough with certainty. The chroniton display shifted, magnifying Goku's aura. Within the swirling crimson energy, Bardock pointed towards fleeting, serpentine threads of *black* intertwined with the primal gold. They weren't distinct like rage-induced corruption; they were integral, primal, like shadow cast by immense light. "See that?" Bardock's smirk widened, showing sharp teeth. "Pure Oozaru essence. The core savage intelligence. Not suppressed. Not diluted. Harnessed." He grunted. "The old Kai knew what he was doing. This isn't just another transformation. He *became* the Great Ape's cunning... and kept its strength." Chronoa leaned in, her own apprehension deepening. Bardock saw confirmation; she saw terrifying potential. That core darkness wasn't just power—it was sentience. And it was listening.
Chronoa's voice cut through the tension. "He's destabilizing local causality, Bardock." Her youthful face was etched with worry. "That energy... it shouldn't exist harmoniously with spacetime." Bardock glanced at her, his smirk softening only fractionally. "Harmony?" He snorted, a sharp sound dismissing millennia of cosmic order. "Spacetime bends or breaks. That's the Saiyan way." He turned back to the projection as Whis and Beerus vanished. Goku remained, crimson fur rippling, scanning the ruined horizon for Vegeta. Bardock's eyes gleamed. "The runt's chaos is just beginning. Let the gods tremble." Chronoa watched him silently, dread coiling in her stomach. This wasn't mere paternal pride; Xeno Bardock saw an *ally*, a force unleashed that could reshape realities. The game hadn't just changed—it had been thrown into the roaring heart of a primal storm.
She sighed, the sound heavy with centuries of responsibility. "This requires containment protocols." Chronoa stood abruptly, her tea forgotten and cooling beside the flickering chroniton display. "And *he*," she added, her tone sharpening with weary exasperation, "needs oversight." She strode across the Nest's starlit floor, her footsteps echoing softly. At the Nest's far edge, bathed in chronological stasis light, sat Xeno Trunks—trussed securely within temporal containment bonds woven from solidified chronitons. His lavender hair was tousled, his signature blue jacket torn at the shoulder. Across his chest, the Time Patrol insignia flashed faintly beneath the shimmering bonds—a badge earned only after Chronoa herself had busted him for reckless temporal meddling that fractured three branching realities. She stopped before him, hands on hips. "Enjoying the view?" she asked drily.
Trunks glared up at her, defiance warring with grudging respect. "Just admiring your knots," he retorted, flexing against the glowing restraints. His aura flared instinctively—a blinding cascade of transformations flickering faster than thought: Base, Super Saiyan, Super Saiyan 2, Super Saiyan 3, the divine blue shimmer of Super Saiyan God... proof of the hard-won power Chronoa had forged him into as the Multiverse's first Time Patroller. His violet eyes darted past her shoulder to the projection of Goku—crimson-furred, primal, impossibly strong. "Uncle Goku..." he breathed, a flicker of awe cutting through his irritation. "What *is* that?" Chronoa's expression softened minutely. "Potential," she murmured. "And peril." She tapped the containment field; it dissolved instantly. Trunks landed gracefully, rubbing his wrists. Chronoa met his gaze squarely. "Your first assignment, Patroller Trunks: Audit Universe 7 Timeline Delta-Zero. Assess the Saiyan anomaly." Her voice turned grave. "Report *everything*. Especially..." she gestured toward Bardock's shadowed form, "...the whispers." Trunks straightened, eyes narrowing as he absorbed the weight of her command. He sensed the unspoken urgency—this wasn't just observation; it was reconnaissance against an unknown storm. His fingers brushed the hilt of his sword.
Trunks nodded sharply, tension hardening his jawline. "Understood," he stated, his voice low and purposeful. He didn't ask questions; Chronoa's grim tone was answer enough. His hand moved instinctively to his temporal modulator, fingers poised over the coordinates Chronoa projected silently onto his wrist display—Earth, Universe 7, moments after Beerus's departure. He spared one last glance at Bardock, who watched him with unnerving intensity, then at Goku's crimson form hovering over devastation. Primal energy resonated deep within Trunks's own Saiyan blood—a distant, hungry echo. He triggered the modulator. Reality folded around him in a twist of blue chroniton light. Chronoa watched him vanish, her expression unreadable. Beside her, Bardock's smirk returned, sharp and satisfied. The Time Patrol was moving. The game deepened.